


I Can't Make You Love Me

by littlebluewhiskey (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Stylinson family, innocent!george, josh is the bad guy what, protective!harry, worried!louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/littlebluewhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one in which josh is a crazy ex-boyfriend who will go to any length to get /his/ george back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Make You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> ( A/N: ) Finally edited, 1962 words, enjoy.
> 
> Story title from Bon Iver's song I Can't Make You Love Me.  
> (◡‿◡✿)

George nods his head in response to something his best friend Ella is prattling on about. Probably important but he really couldn't give a flying monkey, much too distracted with his thoughts of his ex, Josh. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about him but he can't. The look in his eyes when George had explained that he just didn't feel that way about him anymore, haunts his dreams.

George shakes his head and shudders, Josh's words echoing in his head.

_"You will be mine, George Styles-Tomlinson."_

He quickly spins in his combination and shoves open his locker, intending to shove all of his unwanted books in and grab the ones he needs. Instead, a little white piece of paper flutters to the dirty, grime filled floor. Frowning, he bends down and unfolds the paper, scanning over it with curious eyes. When he's done, his heart is pounding and his eyes are as wide as saucers. Ella's still babbling on about whatever today's drama is, so when George interrupts her, making up the old lame excuse of ''m not feeling too good'', and, well. She's a little more than suspicious.

George makes a dash for the doors, completely forgetting to close his locker behind him. Ella's mouth is hanging open and she snaps it shut, closing George's locking with a sigh, her eyes falling to her feet. The folded piece of paper George had been reading lay's by her feet, long forgotten about. Intrigued, she plucks it with her newly manicured nails. She knows she shouldn't read it, but. She's always been a stickler for the rules.

"God damn it, George." She whispers, tucking the paper into her red leather Prada bag. Not even a second later, she’s running (or trying to but her damn new heels are starting to rub the skin of her heel. She should have totally broke them in before coming to school) in the direction that George went, cursing the fast little bugger under her breath.

The words are etched into his brain, taunting him, baiting him.

_George,_

_I’m going to kill your precious parents._

_Better start running, the clock is ticking._

~~_Josh_ ~~

_Anonymous_

*** * ***

“Dads!” George shouts, bursting through the door, tripping on his own feet. He curses and shoves himself up, when a pair of strong arms wind themselves around his waist. He’s pulled back into a familiar chest and he lets out a loud shout, kicking his legs out. He hears Josh let out a shout as George’s foot connects with his crotch and is released. He scrambles into the kitchen, throwing a look back over his shoulder.

Josh is on his knees, cuppings himself, face contorted in pain. George would feel sorry for him, but. He doesn’t. He whips back around only to find his parents struggling, tied to the kitchen chairs. They stare at him with wide, panic-filled eyes.

“Oh fuck.” He mutters, running over. He drops to his knees behind Dad, Daddy franticly jerking around in his seat (Dad is Louis and Daddy is Harry, he used to get confused a lot when he was little so he came up with an easy solution and it’s stuck ever since).

He rips of the tape and Louis lets out a loud squeak, looking over at the door, eyes widening in horror. “George, run, run now!” he screams, halting George in his attempt to get of the tape binding his Dad’s wrists.

Josh comes barrelling into the room and lets out a loud growl when he spots George. He charges, George barely has time to get out of his crouching position before he’s being tackled from the side, smashing his face of the chair. A weak groan falls from his mouth as he’s flipped over, another groans slipping out as he dazedly stares up at Josh. He can feel his nose throbbing in time with his heartbeat, can feel the blood dripping from his chin onto the shiny marble floor, staining in ruby red.

Josh tuts, “You shouldn’t have run from me, Georgie,” he reaches out to catch a drop of blood as it falls from George’s chin, watching it intently and, slowly, so everyone can see, pops it into his mouth. George gags.

“You sick fuck.” He hears Dad shout from above them, he looks up. Dad is still tied to the chair, his face flushed red in anger and the way he’s glaring at Josh is something he’s never seen before.

“Shut up,” Josh snaps, glancing up. George uses his distraction to his advantage and knocks Josh in the face with his elbow, hard. He shoves Josh off him and scrambles to his feet, darting from the kitchen and up the stairs. He hears Josh curse and chase after him, loud, thudding footsteps thundering on the shiny wooden stairs. George almost slips, but now is not the most opportune time for his clumsiness in which he inherited from Daddy.

He swings his body around and skids into his bedroom, snapping the lock shut. Just in time too, for as soon as the lock clicked, Josh is banging loudly on the door, shouting at George.

“Let me in,” he demands, banging once more. “You are mine George!”

George backs away and grabs his desk chair, propping it up against the handle. It won’t give him much time, but just enough for him to escape.

Josh is still shouting and swearing, barging the door with his shoulder.

“Leave me alone!” he screams, gripping his hair tightly. Franticly, he runs over to the window, bangs on it, screaming for someone – anyone – to help when the door is thrown open, chair collapsing and breaking. Josh pants angrily, eyes scanning the room. They lock on him, target found, he charges at George.

George throws himself across his bed and runs out into the hallway where he’s apprehended once again. He cries out, desperately trying to get out of Josh’s grasp. He twists, turns, panic bubbling up in his chest.

“Help me someone!” he cries, a harsh sob ripping its way out of his throat. “Help! Hel-“ Josh cuts his pleas for help short, slapping his hand over his mouth. Josh pulls something out of his pocket and only then does George catch a glimpse of a rather large roll of duck-tape, a dirty cloth and a brown bottle of Chloroform.

He wriggles in Josh’s grip, all the air in his lungs cut off as Josh punches him in the stomach. He drops to the floor and curls himself into the foetal position, gasping, trying to regain his lost breath. Josh roughly pulls his arms and tapes them together at the wrists, covering his mouth as well. He hauls George over his shoulder and makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. His Dad’s mouth has been taped up once more.

“We are going on a little vacation,” Josh explains, bending down to pick up a large bag pack. “and we aren’t coming back.”

Tears run down George’s face as he looks at his parents, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Josh sets him down so he’s laid on the floor and grabs the Chloroform bottle and cloth. He uncaps the bottle and soaks the cloth with it. George shakes his head, gazing at Josh with teary eyes, silently pleading him not to do it.

He ignores him and quickly slits a line in the tape and presses the cloth to his mouth. George jerks and struggles violently, kicking his legs out. He holds his breath for a long as he can, but really, he’s denying the inevitable. When his lungs feel like they’re about to collapse on himself, he gaps for breath, unwillingly inhaling the toxic. His eyes flutter and distantly, he hears a frantic shout and someone ripping off the tape covering his mouth. A hand slaps his cheek roughly.

“George, George, can you hear me?” An unfamiliar voice breaks through his consciousness, he lets out a weak groan.

“George baby,” Daddy is franticly gasping, pleading. “please wake up, please, Lou – he’s not-“

“We need to get him to a hospital.”

It’s the last things he hears before the darkness sinks its claws into him and drags him down into the deep, dark abyss.

*** * ***

_Two Months Later_

“George!” Harry shouts from where he’s tapping his foot impatiently at the bottom of the stairs, “If you don’t get your bum down here right _this_ instant, I’m going to set off without you!

A muffled shout and a loud thump from upstairs confirms that George is indeed now up and Harry smirks, turns and heads back into the kitchen.

George groans and reluctantly picks himself up from the floor – it was actually pretty comfy, he should definitely sleep there more often – and drags himself into the bathroom. He feels like he’s been run over by a train, the train has then backed up and run him over again. He’d stayed up all night texting Ella about his worries about Josh, his new boyfriend Jaymi and the fact that his chemistry teacher Mr Holdsworth was going to kill him for not going to his detention the other day.

Ella had simply said that Josh was on the run and there was no _way_ he was gonna show his face again, that he needs to give Jaymi a chance because she guarantees that Jaymi is a nice guy and won’t hurt him, and Mr Holdsworth could shove it where the sun don’t shine. To put it politely.

Oh, and she had also said, quote unquote, “ _If Josh even dares to come anywhere near you, I’m going to rip of his balls and staple them to his face and rip off his nipples and use them as earrings.”_

George does love Ella.

*** * ***

George likes the song, _The Fault In Our Stars_ by Troye Sivan, he likes the lyrics and the way the music goes with them. He met him too, thanks to his dads massively successful band, One Direction. In fact, George has met lots of people, Ed Sheeran, Rhiannon, Lady Gaga (he likes her but not some much on her fashion sense, I mean, a meat dress. Really?), The Vamps, The Wanted (he doesn’t really like them to be honest, that he does agree with dad on.) and a whole other bunch of famous celebs.

 When he finally manages to find enough strength to peel himself away from the shower, his skin has turned all prune-y. He slips on some boxers, a pair of black skinny jeans he found on the floor and a red checked shirt. He nimbly rolls up the sleeves, grabs a pair of somewhat clean looking socks and pulls them on. George then looks into the mirror, wiping away the condensation from the warm air caused by his shower, and flips his hair – an exact replica of his daddy does it.

Louis thinks that it’s illegal for him to do that. He grabs his iPhone and pockets it before heading downstairs, the heavenly smell of pancakes wafting up his nose.  

"Hi, Daddy." He greets happily, jumping up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. He's too small, he thinks, he's smaller than Dad, which is just not acceptable in his books.

Both his parents think it’s adorable. George disagrees.

 Harry smiles and sets down a plate in front of him. "Just a reminder, tonight is mine and Dad’s date night, so I'll leave some money on the counter for you and Ella to get a pizza." He begins, and gives George the _'look'_. It's the look that he gives him which basically translates to: _if you even think of having a party in my house, I will kill you._

"It was one time!"


End file.
